Our window overlooks national army land. 100 meters from my window. If the light is good, I can see some of their uncut face skin, their arms and shoes. Sweet dearest Lord God, am not swearing, but they go to Kargil/ wherever, while I sit here trying not to be a crab, for a mean sinus. Eeehh. Nothing against crabs. They can be house pets, who knows.
If you lived by the sea, you find 2-3 inched sandcrab with dancing eyes. Their sandy translucent bodies race you at low tide. I had one in my palm once, the devil skated across my sleeve. Didn’t know where it was till it taxied in my collar. There are mean crabs too, and if I do not get some quiet every morning, (praying fervently also for armies in my own head🙄), then am not too good.
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Watched Gandhi, last night. The Father of our Nation, in dhoti, bent shoulder sitting sideways in the floor, fasting. Empires listened. How’d he do that. “Gently you can move armies...” He said or something like that. I’ve tried fasting, there’s a power in it. It clears the head, knocks vitals nice, bullies your demons. There’s something about it, for every one. A veg fast works very well too for me. Even a fast from social media, or toxicity.
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Our army boys are quiet today. Sometimes they have an all night party, you know they’re drinking. Once we heard, “Mera jeevan Kora kagaz…” (my life is a blank page) for the third time, before someone shut him up on their microphone. Some days its their gun practice or helicopter blades whipping the air, over all our gulmohar.
Dark times, uh. Seriously, who is my neighbor? If Christ were here, He’d personally insist,
“Love neighbor as self..”
how does that work?!
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Watching Gandhi, last night, I thought of Varsha Sodagar, of the sweet family we met while at Gujarat, (Gandhiji’s home turf). They lived opposite the Lighthouse compound.
Lord, is Varsha safe, after the 2000 earthquake that hit Mandvi, a jewel of a fort town, by the Arabian sea, on India’s western border. (There was no reply to my mail from them). The Lighthouse where Dad worked? -It fell with the fort wall. Every detail, there on google. Varsha S. lived next door, she and family adopted us socially, oh in the heart! Her grandma was sure I was a boy. I had very short hair that year and wore only pants. Grandma lectured Varsha on behavior. She never believed I was a girl till a closer look dispensed all fear at a looming intercaste affair. With relief she hugged me to her heart, fed me fat parathas, to fatten my thinness. Heeheeheee…she went, at my short hair, tears running down her ghee cheeks.
One afternoon they saw fish frying in our pan, (they wanted to have a peek). Oh there was a piercing yell from VS but she stood there, in a way thrilled that she’d done something tough.
What’s a tough thing I been putting off; thinking on that, for the sheer thrill of a tough task, taken.
I’m taxi-ing topics like my friend the sand crab, my Prayers get more chatty than ever before. Bloggy. Neighbor down stairs asks me to write out a prayer for her, I nod real polite, but how write this for another, not sure. She says one Christmas she saw Jesus when I prayed in our living room, she and her girl were here 5pm. Nj my husband had just had his angioplasty, we were recovering from the miracle of having him back home at all, so yes that was sheer Joy. (I had been in those jeans the whole three days, running stairs at Fortis, talking to Doc R. So yes, when Santhi said that, we didn’t doubt it – though I was a little jealous). If we could all see God in all our details, phew. What a miracle that’d be. I believe Santhi only because she’s not the religious type. Initially thought she was pulling my leg. What prayer could I write for her, don’t know yet. Will try. Gratitude works wonders for me.
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Feeling grateful today, rambling yes,but grateful. Thats a thrill all by itself. Gratitude, remembering Miracles. Knowing miracles arrive on the heels of tough things.
Praying peace.
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Every week I write for a precious community FMFwriters, this week’s prompt – Thrill. Apologies I overshot on time limit.
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